


like in the movies

by yukrens



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Jisung-centric, M/M, sort of a jeno/jaemin's relationship through jisung's eyes sort of thing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:17:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukrens/pseuds/yukrens
Summary: He’s always watched films and listened to music that told them to follow their hearts and reach for their dreams, and, really, that is exactly what he’s doing.They say they're too young to understand, but Jisung doesn't believe he's too young to understand anything.





	like in the movies

**Author's Note:**

> i swear this was supposed to be a drabble.
> 
>  
> 
> title, sort of but not really, lifted from nct dream's dunk shot.

Jisung has always known that being an idol was a demanding job that took too much time and too much effort and didn’t spare enough love, but that, he thinks, is all fine, because this is what he _wants_. He’s always watched films and listened to music that told them to follow their hearts and reach for their dreams, and, really, that is exactly what he’s doing.

But sometimes, in the quiet of the trainee dorm, Donghyuck would whisper to the air, to him, that they’re too young to really know what they want. And Jisung would only stubbornly set his jaw and turn onto his side, letting his blanket rustle and his breath draw heavily. He wants this - he really, really does.

And he makes certain that everyone knows it.

He knows eleven is a little too young to enter this sort of lifestyle - rigorous training that involves extreme dieting, a disconnection from regular society, and practices that last from dawn to dusk, isn’t exactly advisable for their health or their growth, but he isn’t the only twelve year-old dancing until their feet blister and it becomes a bit too hard to breathe in the basement practice room of SM Entertainment, or even in the world. So he doesn’t stop, doesn’t give up. An older trainee named Mark sometimes tells him he works too hard, pushes himself too much, but Jisung sees him kipping on the cold floors of the practice room early in the morning, so he doesn’t take him too seriously.

In any case, he is determined. So he practices and practices until he improves and improves, and then, he’s being called SMEnt’s dance prodigy at the tender age of twelve. It separates him, somewhat, from the few other trainees his age. Because while they all toil and sweat beneath fluorescent lights before and after school, he’s the only one being pulled out into schedules. He’s the only one asked to appear on _Mickey Mouse Club_ and participate in EXO’s new variety show and join the hyungs (the _sure-debuts_ , the others used to call them, bitterness on their tongues, the _favourites_ ) in SMTown concerts all over the world. He’s the only one being called an _SM Rookie._

He gets to sit in concept meetings, play on shoot sets, have clothes made for him, have his skincare and his diet be laid out for him. He gets to have his hair styled just to leave the dorm and gets his makeup done to stand by bigger, brighter stars in an attempt to perhaps not fade in the face of their brilliance. His name trends on Naver, along with Mark’s, and Donghyuck’s, and Jeno’s, and Jaemin’s. They’re the rookie monsters, the articles all say - and they haven’t even debuted yet.

It’s _amazing_.

But he experiences firsthand how hard it is. How little rest he gets and how little fuel he runs on every day for months on end. How fans scream in his face and in his ear and push he and his hyungs around, trying to get to them or to the other artists. How they lose touch of time and language and nation and how much more they have to do each time.

But that’s fine. This is what he _wanted_.

When he finally debuts, finally hears fans chanting his name, finally stands on a stage next to his hyungs - his brothers-in-arms - and performs like it’s the only thing he’ll ever be able to do, he relishes in the knowledge that he’s only there, that he’s only able to do this because he has four years of training under his belt and too many hours of shed blood, sweat, and tears to not deserve this.

When he gets his first fan gift, a small chick plushie he now never lets leave his side, he clutches it close to his chest and tells himself, again, that this is the life he wants. And it’s the truth.

 

He is bitterly reminded again that being an idol is cruel and dangerous in the way that only a lifestyle covered in glitz and glamour can be behind the scenes.

Jisung has never felt like the world should have stopped on its axis for anything. Not for his debut, not for his sixteenth birthday, not for his first SMTown Concert, and not for when they were all moved into the Dream dorms and introduced to Huang Renjun and Zhong Chenle from China and told that they were going to be a family for as long as they’re all teenagers.

Jisung only feels like the world should halt in its spinning when Jaemin, his kind, strong, beautiful Jaemin hyung, slips off his hoverboard and slams hip-first onto the hard floor of their practice room.

But the universe is cruel and mean, and the world still goes on spinning, and Jaemin is announced to be tentatively drawn from the NCT Dream lineup until he recovers.

The thing is, though, that no one knows when that will happen. Spinal injuries are generally unpredictable in terms of recovery rates, Jeno had whispered to him one evening in the practice room some days after Jaemin had been rushed to the hospital, there are too many variables. Jaemin is too young (always too young) to be suffering from a herniated disk, too promising, too _bright._ Jisung doesn’t quite know what to do with himself when their dormitory of seven dwindles down to five, down to four.

Jisung shares a room with Chenle. He used to share with Donghyuck and Mark, because sometimes Jeno and Jaemin get too quiet for even his tastes, so it’s refreshing to sleep in the company of someone who tosses and turns in his sleep and doesn’t mind listening to Jisung talk about his parents until their eyes fall shut against their own will, even when they might not understand everything he’s saying.

After a week of half-hearted dinners that Jeno throws together on his own because Jaemin’s… gone, Donghyuck’s moved into the 127 dorms, and the rest of them are absolutely useless in the kitchen, Jisung lets himself miss Jaemin.

He doesn’t know if he says it enough, but Jaemin is basically his older brother, the sibling he’d never had. Sure, Jisung has a brother, but he’s too old to really spend time with him. And sure, Jisung has the other NCT hyungs, but Jaemin’s _different._ Jaemin feeds him when he sees Jisung curled up on the couch in the middle of the night, missing his mum. Jaemin gives him hugs and kisses even when Jisung acts like he hates them. Jaemin makes him seaweed soup on his birthday and samgyetang when he’s ill. Jaemin listens to Jisung, doesn’t make fun of him when he’s scared, and offers him even his favourite sweater if he’s even just a bit cold.

Jaemin has always, always been too kind to Jisung. Jaemin has always, always given him so much.

It just sucks that when Jaemin needs him the most, Jisung can’t do anything about it.

 

Jisung hasn’t spoken with Jaemin in a while. It’s understandable. He struggles to even speak with his parents in between schedules and sorely needed naps. Jaemin has never been a responsive texter, anyway.

Still, between bouts of exhaustion and successful stages, Jisung wonders what his hyung is doing.

Donghyuck, Jeno, and Jaemin had all dropped school the year before. He wonders if Jaemin enrolled again, or if he didn’t bother and now spends most of his time in therapy. He wonders if he’s getting well. He wonders if he’s still dancing.

Jisung… hopes he is. Dancing shouldn’t be very good for Jaemin, not with his back, but Jaemin’s always loved dancing. And he has always been stubborn to a fault - he wouldn’t let an injury stop him.

The image of his hyung arguing in cold tones with his physical therapist to allow him to dance makes him laugh. It’s an image he keeps in his pocket and pulls out when he misses him too much.

Jisung doesn’t need to speak with Jaemin to know he’s fine. Jaemin has always been the strongest one of them all.

 

They are in the middle of practicing for their first end-of-the-year program. The idea of it still excites Jisung, to the point that he’s visibly enthusiastic even when it’s about their thirtieth time going over the choreography and everyone else is on the knife-edge of collapsing onto the floor.

Chenle is exhausted, notably so, leaning against the mirror and fogging it up with his body heat. Jisung vibrates in place for a bit before he runs to hand his friend a bottle of water. He gets a quaky smile for his trouble and a softly slurring _thank you, Jisung ah_ that has him beaming.

Chenle’s Korean may not be the best yet, but he’s getting there.

“Okay!” Taeyong is calling out, clapping his hands until every head in the room is turned towards him and coming close. It’s funny, sometimes, when this happens, because Taeyong’s so _adamant_ about saying that there isn’t a leader in NCT when they all know there is. “We’re doing good, guys. Moves-wise, we’re generally in sync. But we can’t stop there, yeah? We need knife-like precision. Let’s do countings for the rest of the session, and, uh. The centres, we’re not always actually centre.” His wide eyes search them, narrow in on someone. “Mark, you move too much during your solo. You need to look free and relaxed, but try to contain your movements.”

Then his eyes move again and Jisung finds himself staring into them. He swallows.

Taeyong gives him a curt nod. “You’re doing great, Jisung ah. But try to keep your energy consistent; you tend to slip a bit towards the middle.” Jisung’s chest feels light with the praise, and he takes the criticism in stride. “And, Jeno -” Taeyong pauses, blinks, then frowns. “Where’s Jeno?”

A murmur sounds through the room in a way that only happens with groups of thirteen, apparently twelve, people. Jisung looks around, too, because after their last run, he’d seen Jeno cross the room for his bag, but not much more after that.

“Maybe he’s went to the bathroom?” Jisung timidly suggests.

To his surprise, both Renjun and Jaehyun snort, then give each other these… conspiratory grins. Renjun laughs and reaches for Jisung’s sweaty hair, ruffling it. Jisung flinches and yells, “Hyung, that’s gross!” Behind them, Jaehyun leans down to whisper something to Taeyong.

Taeyong, who’s usually so composed when they practice, lets out a snort and Jisung watches in befuddlement as their pseudo-leader tells them to take a break. He follows Renjun to settle down before the mirrors, the older boy leaning over him to speak rapid-fire Chinese at Chenle who laughs in that strange, high-pitched way of his that Jisung’s become accustomed to. They converse for a bit more, Jisung still jittering in place. He’s confused and a little out of place, because try as he might, Mandarin is an incredibly complex language and his knowledge only extends to _ni hao_ , but he doesn’t mind much. The palm Renjun has curved over his thigh lets him know that he’s not forgotten, and that’s fine.

Jisung’s too busy wondering where Jeno’s disappeared to care.

On the seventh minute into Taeyong’s ten-minute break, the door squeaks open and Jeno makes an attempt to creep inside undetected. He seems to know it doesn’t work, though, with the way his shoulders hunch and how his hair falls over his eyes.

His face is flushed, Jisung notes, which is very unusual. Jeno isn’t the type to turn ruddy from exertion or the heat. Jisung wonders if thirty times running through _Black on Black_ is too much for most people.

“I…,” Jeno gulps, when all eyes turn to him and Taeyong’s demanding wordlessly where he’s been, “I took a call.” And Jisung has to wonder whose call he had to take at three in the morning. Jeno isn’t like Johnny hyung or Mark hyung who have family who live sixteen hours away; Jeno’s family is all in Incheon. Jeno’s friends are all here, within this room.

Then, _oh_ , Jisung thinks. Perhaps there’s one friend of Jeno’s who isn’t here right now, but Jaemin cherishes his sleep more than anything, and he wouldn’t be up at three in the morning just to give Jeno a ring for a conversation that couldn’t have lasted for more than ten minutes.

No one asks who he was talking to, but Jeno blurts out _it was my noona_ anyway. And Renjun and Chenle burst out into even more raucous peals of laughter by his side, but Jisung still feels very left out of the loop. Jeno, evidently embarrassed, rushes to his bag, drops his phone inside, then rushes to where the hyungs are gathering, asking very loudly about how he needs to improve.

Renjun laughs so hard he cries.

When they return to their dorm and head to bed, or the kitchen, or the shower, Jisung stops Jeno on his way to the balcony. Jisung has his mobile in his hands, the screen lit up to the dozens of messages his mother has left him in the past few days and the single call his brother has tried to push through the night before. Quietly, he asks if the person who Jeno escaped practice for was really his noona.

A little strangled, Jeno says, “Yes, of course.” And Jisung nods, because, _of course._ Who else could it be?

Jisung’s feet shuffle awkwardly, because he’s stopped Jeno and gotten his attention, but he can’t bring himself to ask the question he really means to, because Jeno isn’t Jaemin hyung.

Thankfully, Jeno notices and leads them into the bedroom that he used to share with Jaemin and now shares with Renjun, who’s washing up in their small communal bathroom. He lets Jisung climb onto his bed and Jisung tucks his socked feet beneath him and tries not to think about how gross he must be right now and how this would be so much easier if Jaemin hyung was still around - but then, he realises, perhaps it still wouldn’t be easy then.

“Hyung,” he croaks, eventually, after a handful of moments of Jeno watching him with a patient smile.

“Hm?”

He fumbles for the words, then, sighing with his entire body, hands his phone to Jeno who takes it with a confused turn of his lips. Jisung slumps into Jeno’s sheets - they smell like their fabric softener and Jeno’s body wash - and waits.

“Oh.” Jeno taps on his hand with a finger until Jisung looks at him with tired and embarrassed eyes, and Jeno pats his head. It’s strange, because Jeno really isn’t all that touchy. Donghyuck and Jaemin are the ones who try to kiss him and smother him with their affection. Chenle holds his hand sometimes, and Renjun just strangles him. Jeno… Jeno usually stands off to the side with his hands in his pockets and his neutral smile.

Still, it is comforting, and Jisung appreciates it.

“You don’t have to call him, now, Jisung ah,” Jeno says, softly. “Just leave him a message, tell him you’re missing him. I’m sure your hyung will understand.”

“Is… is that what you do with your noona?” And Jeno, inexplicably, flushes pink to his ears. Jisung’s too tired to wonder why. Has Jeno always blushed this easily?

“That’s exactly what I do.”

“And it works?”

“Sure.”

“What else should I tell him?” He shakes his head. “What did you tell your noona?”

Jeno coughs then, and Jisung almost shoots up in alarm. Jeno can’t get ill, he’s a _centre_ and - Jeno waves him off, chuckling. “Don’t worry. I, ah. I told her I love her.”

And then it’s Jisung’s turn to blush, because he doesn’t remember the last time he’s told his own hyung that.

Jeno ruffles Jisung’s bangs, once, then nudges his shoulder gently. “C’mon, you have to get to your own bed. We have a fitting tomorrow - or, today. The stylists wouldn’t like it when they see your dark circles.”

Jisung swallows down his yawn and nods, untangling himself and making his way to his room. He follows Jeno hyung’s advice, sends his hyung a quick message ( _i’m good, how are you? i miss you, hyung_ ), and falls asleep before his head hits the pillow.

 

The end-of-the-year awards show passes them by quicker than Jisung expects it to. There’s a novelty, there, in being invited all the way to _Hong Kong_ for the biggest event in his career to date, as one of the youngest performers of the evening. Since landing, however, he and the remaining twelve members are rushed around through rehearsals and interviews and practice, practice, practice.

Jisung can dance to _Black on Black_ in his sleep at this point, and he doesn’t entirely hate it.

NCT Dream roll in the red carpet on their hoverboards, Jisung’s hair styled into a truly terrible bowl cut, but he smiles, as he should. There are screams coming from every direction and cameras shoved into their faces, but Mark leads their way calmly, and they follow.

They perform _Chewing Gum_ on the red carpet, and though it’s nice - more than nice, it’s _exhilarating_ \- to dance in front of hundreds of people and thousands more in their own homes tuning in, Jisung still feels like some part of him is gone, or has been taken out and replaced somewhere wrong inside him. They perform their debut song as six, when it’s a choreography and a track meant for seven. Though they try their best, their formations feel lopsided, unbalanced.

Jisung doesn’t have the opportunity to stew in his thoughts or miss Jaemin, because the moment they’re off the stage, their staff members crowd them and pick at their outfits and their makeup and tell them to _move move move._

The dressing room sectioned off for NCT has to be one of the largest in the building, which only makes sense as they are, after all, thirteen members in total with double the amount of staff. Jisung nearly loses himself in the flurry of things, of sequinned jackets and camouflage-printed cargos. He gets in costume without any fuss, and his usual stylist tracks him down over the heads of his hyungs and makes him sit through an hour of makeup and hair styling changes. When he’s finished, he hears someone yelling for an orange bandana. He spotted one earlier by his table, and so he goes to get it and delivers it to the frazzled manager who pats him on the head in thanks (he pouts, because he’s not a _child_ ) and ties it around Jeno’s neck.

Strangely enough, Jeno doesn’t even seem to be paying attention to them, because he doesn’t so much as smile in acknowledgement when the coordi-noona tells him he’s done. His gaze is trained on his phone in his hands, opened to kkt. Jisung wants to ask him what’s got him so focused, and why he looks so sad when this may as well be the _best_ night of their lives, but he’s being dragged off by Chenle to play a mini-game with the hyungs and he loses track of time.

 _Black on Black_ goes well - goes _brilliantly_ , actually. It’s the first time they’ve performed their thirteen-person-and-counting routine and Jisung almost cries at how well-received they are. Somehow, everything they’ve done to this day doesn’t seem as real as this, as standing before thousands and thousands and thousands.

Later that evening, the 127 hyungs win an award for the rookie of the year and Jisung wraps his fingers tight around Jeno’s and Chenle’s wrists and he wants to _yell_ , but he _can’t_. He is so so so happy for his hyungs that his grip turns bruising, but no one seems to mind, because Jeno’s gripping him right back and Chenle’s screaming beside him, and his voice melts into the screaming of all their fans holding up signs and chanting their name. It is the absolute _best_ feeling in the world.

They aren’t allowed to go to the after party, but even that can’t dampen the high they ride on back to the hotel. When they’ve all crammed themselves into Taeyong and Taeil’s room, Chenle screams and tackles the closest hyung - Jaehyun - into a bed and sobs until his voice is hoarse (or maybe that’s from all the howling he’s been doing). After that, it’s all a mess. A win for NCT 127 is a win for _NCT_ and Jisung presses his fists into his eyes because he doesn’t want to cry, he _refuses_ to cry. Someone wraps their arms around him and someone other yells into his ear and they’re all toppling onto the ground or onto the blankets, and Jisung knows -

Jisung knows that when he was younger, and when everyone would tell him that he didn’t know what he wanted, he actually really, really did. He knew, _knows_ , that _this_ is what he’s always wanted. And he thinks that night, tucked into his blankets with Chenle’s cold feet pressing into his calves and Donghyuck’s slurred, half-asleep singing, and Jeno’s soft footsteps after yet another phone call to his noona, that he would hold onto this and never ever want to let go.

 

Awards season passes and comeback season approaches. They’ve had to dye their hair again for the new album, and Jisung tries to get used to the chestnut tone the hair stylist decided for him. It’s so long it flops over his eyes, but it isn’t as though he can trim it himself, so he pushes a headband on and pads to the kitchen.

It’s only when he’s reaching for the breakfast that is usually laid out for him in the morning does he realise that something is amiss. He struggles to peel his eyes open and surveys their dorm.

It’s a space made for six people, home to five, but there are only four of them, right now. As he looks around, however, he notices that there are actually only three of them.

“Where’s Jeno hyung?” he eventually manages to ask - or slur, as it seems, from Chenle’s confused expression on his swollen face.

Renjun is struggling to open a jar of jam, but he still replies to Jisung, albeit a bit absentmindedly, “Oh. He’s on a date.” His hair looks like fire in the mid-morning light.

“A date?” Jisung repeats incredulously. “What -?”

Jeno hyung? On a date? They’re not allowed to date! They’re not even allowed to leave the premises of company property during promotion season unless it’s for schedules or practice or orchestrated public appearances. Dates aren’t part of that.

“Oh,” is all Chenle says, rubbing at his cheeks. “That was today?”

“You knew?” Jisung gapes. “What date?”

“With Jaemin hyung,” Chenle says like it’s obvious, “of course.”

He stares down at the wood of their dining table and tries to think, hard. Jaemin hyung? His mind is muddled from sleep and it takes him too long before he gasps and lurches out of his seat. He almost slips, but Renjun, bless him, grabs his arm before he does. With an embarrassed chuckle, he settles into his seat and avoids his hyung’s glare.

“Be careful,” is all Renjun says, like _Jeno_ being on a _date_ with _Jaemin hyung_ isn’t a big deal.

“Stop being so dramatic,” Chenle giggles, pushing his hair out of his face. His cheeks are chubby when he smiles. They’re cute, but he doesn’t like to hear that, so Jisung wisely keeps his mouth shut. “They’re just hanging out because Jeno hyung misses Jaemin hyung, and -” He pauses, pursing his lips, and turns to confer with Renjun in Mandarin, who nods after a few words. Jisung doesn’t follow. “And it’s Jeno’s birthday tomorrow. So.”

So it’s not actually a date, he comes to understand. Just. A hangout between two friends.

“Why didn’t they bring me with them?” he can’t help but pout. “I miss Jaemin hyung, too...”

Renjun sighs around his drink and lowers his glass just to tell Chenle something in Chinese, to which Chenle laughs, a little fondly, before agreeing. (“He’s really still a child, isn’t he?”)

“Jisung ah,” Renjun says to him mildly, “you know how Jaemin means a lot to Jeno. He’s really taken it hard, you know.”

Jisung pushes the rice around in his bowl moodily. Jisung knows, alright. They all do.

It’s not like Jeno actually changed while Jaemin was gone, but he’s become more reserved, in a way, like Jaemin was the only one who ever really brought him out of his shell. And it’s so strange, because it’s not like Jeno’s all that sad without Jaemin. He’s just… quiet.

He huffs in frustration. _Jeno_ isn’t the only one who took Jaemin’s absence hard. Jisung still turns around sometimes, body locking because he thinks Jaemin’s going to jump him, only to face disappointment and faint embarrassment at it being a hyung who wants him to do something or other. Jisung still gets out of bed in the evening and makes his way to the room next to his and Chenle’s, only to realise that whoever opens that door isn’t going to be Jaemin. Jisung still opens the fridge searching for calorie-bomb tanghulus, only to clench his fingers around cool air.

He registers Renjun’s words with half a mind. Apparently, Jeno’s been planning this date for ages with the managers and Jaemin’s parents, and it wasn’t initially going to be approved until he pulled out some cards that Jisung really doesn’t understand - and that’s that, he supposes. Chenle laughs, then, when Renjun says something about Jaemin sending him photos of his outfit for the day.

“Like that matters,” Renjun snorts, “when he sends Jeno his outfits everyday.”

And that sends a wave of something cold throughout Jisung, because for all he says he loves Jaemin hyung and would do anything for Jaemin hyung, he doesn’t remember the last time he actually spoke with him.

How did Jeno do it? Keep up with Jaemin and not fall behind in work?

Is it because Jisung just can’t keep up?

Abruptly, Jisung’s stomach churns. With a sigh, he pushes his bowl away and heads back to his room.

 

Jeno doesn’t return that evening, even when they all wait in the living room, hoping for news or presents or - something.

The three of them end up putting on an animated film that Yuta hyung had recommended, ripped off the internet and with Chinese subtitles, so Jisung isn’t really paying attention. Renjun bursts into tears towards the end, however, and Jisung and Chenle laugh at him for being so weak, even when Jisung probably would have cried as well, had he understood the movie. Chenle chucks a throw pillow at Renjun, and Renjun, pretty face twisted in frustration, chucks it back, smacking Chenle in the nose. Jisung almost busts a lung at Chenle’s yowls and Renjun’s self-satisfied expression.

Their manager tells them to head off to bed and they all nod obediently, but don’t budge from the couches when he steps out to give Jeno’s phone another try. Instead, Renjun puts on another film, a Marvel one, this time, with subtitles in Hangul so Jisung can understand. It’s great, as most Marvel films tend to be, but it’s also something he’s seen before. He falls asleep before anything exciting happens.

The light filtering through the curtains tell him it’s early morning when he gets up, around the time he usually does when he has a schedule. He presses a hand to the crink in his neck, glaring blearily at the figure in the doorway toeing off their shoes. When the hood falls off their head as they place their shoes on the rack, Jisung gasps a bit.

“Jeno hyung?” he croaks, voice hoarse. He clears his throat, once, twice, then tries again. “Hyung?”

Jeno spins around with a surprised look to his face, like he hadn’t expected anyone to be camping out on the living room couches this late, which, Jisung understands. He laughs sheepishly, setting his bag down on the dining table before coming close. He pats Jisung on the head, smiling gently the way he does when he’s feeling content - Mark hyung calls it his ‘kitten smile’ and, well. He isn’t wrong.

“Sorry, Jisung ah, did I wake you?”

“Uh,” Jisung replies, intelligently.

The chuckle Jeno lets out in return is more of a breath than anything. “Sorry, sorry. Go back to sleep, alright?”

“Hyung,” Jisung slurs, “manager hyung was looking for you.” He yawns, then, loud and wide. Renjun stirs in the armchair he’s curled into, then falls still. “It’s late, hyung.”

Jeno winces, and Jisung can’t interpret his expression that well. His eyes droop, and Jeno shrugs off his jacket, laying it over Jisung’s form. “I’ll deal with that, don’t worry. Go back to sleep, yeah?”

“Hm,” he hums, twisting away from the light, “yeah, okay hyung.”

The jacket smells familiar, but not like Jeno hyung. It’s only later in the day, after their manager gives them a long and winding lecture about respecting time, that he realises it smells like the cologne Jaemin wears.

 

 _My First and Last_ is a great song.

When they heard the demo for the first time, crowded into the studio with some of the hyungs lingering in the back, they all agreed that this would secure them a spot on the charts. Someone whispered that it could even give them their first win, and Mark hyung had laughed, high-pitched and nervous. Jisung understood, though, he felt the same.

A win on a music show would be amazing. That’s what fuels Jisung through endless hours of practice and schedules and stages. He works more and sleeps less, and all is fine and well, because they’re rising on the charts and they can _taste_ it.

When they get it, a round-topped trophy on their second week of promotions, Jisung doesn’t know what to feel. He cries, feeling like a child, because somehow, everything he’s done since he was twelve years old and told that he had _potential_ has culminated into this single moment, and he feels as though he could fly. He isn’t the only one crying, though, and he relishes the laughter it brings when Renjun tries to sing through his tears and cracks on a high-note.

Victory tastes a lot like salt, Jisung notes.

Out of the public eye, they all reach for each other, forming a clump of boys who are reaching their dreams, step by step. Their staff members are clapping them on the back, singing them praises and congratulations, and Jisung cries again. Mark hyung is murmuring encouraging words, telling them they deserve this, they worked for this, that this is _theirs_ and _NCT’s_ and no one can take it from them. That loosens something tight in Jisung’s chest; he can breathe.

Jeno’s muttering something else as Renjun wipes his tears on his shoulder. Jisung catches the words _Jaemin_ and _proud_ and _with us_ and suddenly victory tastes bitter, too.

That night is the first time he speaks to Jaemin in a while. He picks up his phone and calls _jaemini hyung_ with the skull emoji and a few hearts and waits with bated breath for his hyung to pick up.

He doesn’t even know what to say. Does he apologise? Does he thank him? Does he cry?

Then Jaemin answers, “Hello?” He sounds groggy like he’s just woken up, and Jisung’s gaze flicks to the clock on the nightstand and, oh, it’s two in the morning.

He inhales. “Jaemin hyung?”

“Jisung ah?!” Jaemin very nearly shrieks. “Oh, Jisung ah! My Jisungie, I’ve missed you so much!”

“Ah, hyung,” he whines, covering his face with a hand. Chenle’s flicking through Weibo on his bed across Jisung’s and he gives him a little smirk. What a shit. Jisung tosses a pillow at him and Chenle just chortles his way out of the room.

“Have you been eating well? You must be so busy, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t eat, alright? What if you stop growing? And don’t forget to drink milk. Don’t end up like Renjun, alright?”

Jisung snorts. “Hyung, I’ll still be taller than you even if I stop growing, now.” Does his voice sound stable? Can Jaemin hear his shaky breaths? He didn’t want to cry, but it seems like he is anyway. “You’re, what? Still stuck at 174?”

“You little _shit_ ,” Jaemin guffaws over the line and every hard line in Jisung’s body relaxes, because this is alright. They’re alright. They’ll always be alright.

 

Rumours say NCT Dream’s next comeback will be with Jaemin.

Rumours are just that, however.

Their manager breaks the news to them, tells them that although Jaemin’s come far with his physical training, he’s still not well enough to join them for promotions.

“Not even for the album?” Jisung presses, fingers digging into the flesh around his knees. “He doesn’t have to perform - but it’s our first album with _actual songs_ and -”

“Sorry, Jisung,” their manager tells him. And that’s that.

The tentative album release date is a few days after Jaemin’s birthday. That knowledge launches Jisung back into the day Jaemin slipped off his hoverboard and he is filled with such _anger._ The world is so unfair, he realises, utterly defeated.

Caught in preparations for promotions, Jisung forgets all about it. Resentment thrums beneath the surface of his skin, but Renjun and Donghyuck are always there to snap him back into place, telling him he needs to be professional. So that’s what he does. He tries to let go of Park Jisung the boy, and embody his role as NCT’s Jisung, the idol.

The problem is, he supposes, that Park Jisung and NCT’s Jisung aren’t all that different.

His hyungs have their idol personas and their actual selves separated and neatly compartmentalised with only enough overlapping areas to be genuine. Jisung was too young to understand the importance of separating himself from what he shows to the world, and has never done it as a result.

His hair is blue, now. It’s… flashy, to say the least. Part of Jisung wonders if he would have wanted this had he not been an idol.

Then he remembers that he’s lucky enough to be living his dream at such a young age and smiles at the mirror and tells himself he can go on.

It’s almost an afterthought, after he goes through the fancafe and sees Jaemin’s post from maybe a week ago or longer, that he wishes he could give Jaemin a birthday hug. Maybe he’d even let Jaemin kiss him, or something.

Then the day catches up to him, and he falls asleep.

 

NCT Dream aren’t invited to any year-end shows, and the members who aren’t part of 127 pack up their things and go home.

It’s a much needed breath of fresh air, sitting in his childhood bedroom and going through all of his old things. He’s so used to letting the staff pack most of things when they’re doing promotions and not hoarding possessions due to the many dorm arrangement changes they have, that seeing so many of his clutter is making him feel almost nostalgic.

He misses his mother’s cooking. Jeno’s really improved over time, because Renjun, Chenle, and Jisung remain to be completely useless in the kitchen. Still, nothing can compares to a meal by his mother.

They head to a park nearby for New Year’s Eve. His older brother prepares a small picnic and his parents tell him all the interesting things that have happened since he left home for the trainee dorms almost four years ago. He leans into his mother’s side and absorbs her warmth and her words. In her embrace, he doesn’t have to miss her.

He’s forgotten that feeling.

When the fireworks go on, they all watch in awe. Jisung sees them every year, be it from the park or the rooftop of their dormitory building. Somehow, though, these fireworks are brighter than anything he’s ever seen and he snaps a quick photo and sends it to the groupchat _nct (17)._

After a beat, he scrolls through his kkt log and sends it to _nana_ , as well. It isn’t a minute later when his phone pings, and he opens it to a photo of a glass of champagne and a thumbs up.

_hyung, you can’t drink yet,,,_

_shut up and watch me_

He laughs and lets the screen go dark.

His father presses a cup of apple juice to his hand and he rolls his eyes, before swallowing it down. 2018… feels like it’ll be his best year yet.

 

No one tells them Jaemin is coming back. They just arrive at the dorm one day after practice to find him cleaning out their fridge with those terrible pink, elbow-length gloves mothers use on. Then he turns to glare at them and curses them out for ruining his kitchen.

A beat of shocked silence, then Jisung and Chenle are scrambling over each other to reach him first.

“Fuck!” Jaemin spits, his voice is so much deeper than Jisung remembers it to be and it rumbles throughout his chest where Jisung’s pressed his cheek to. Jaemin is holding two cling-wrapped bowls of something probably two weeks old above their heads. “Fuck, Jisung, Chenle - get _off_ me or I’m going to drop these on your goddamn heads and you’re going to regret it when you smell like death and - fuck, are you guys sweaty?” He shrieks in disgust, and every sentimental thought leaves Jisung because he can’t feel anything but the utter _relief_ he has at Jaemin’s return.

Renjun is the one who wrenches them away from Jaemin, pinching them by the ears and scolding them for being idiots. Jisung and Chenle are rubbing at their stinging earlobes and watching in thinly veiled disbelief as Renjun uses the opportunity to hug Jaemin around the waist and whisper into his ear.

“Hyung!” Jisung yells, dismayed, just as Chenle screeches, “Renjun ge!”

Jaemin just rolls his eyes at all of them and nods to Jeno, who’s been quietly standing by the entranceway and gaping a bit. Jaemin raises his brow, and Jeno turns that interesting shade of red Jisung’s only seen a handful of times before. Seemingly tired of waiting, Jaemin tugs his mom-gloves off and smacks them to Renjun’s chest, who grumbles, and steps over Jisung and Chenle to pull Jeno into a tight embrace.

Jisung and Chenle yelp at that and start whining, because why does _Jeno hyung_ always get the special treatment? It’s so unfair!

Then Jaemin’s yelling at them all to shut up and start moving their asses to help him, and it’s like he never even left.

 

That night, Jeno adds Jaemin to the _nct (17)_ chatroom and the header changes to _nct (18)._ It looks so much better that way.

 

Jisung thought that with Jaemin’s return, everything would magically be alright.

He’s naïve, obviously. He should have known that the moment Jaemin’s back, Jeno would monopolise him like he’d done when Jaemin was gone.

Jisung leaves Jaemin’s empty bedroom pouting and just that bit frustrated. He’d just wanted to ask Jaemin to practice with him; Jisung needs the practice and he’s sure Jaemin wouldn’t mind. The new choreography is exactly Jaemin’s and Jeno’s style, and it’s bit difficult to follow, yes, but Jisung is mostly certain his hyung would be more than willing to walk him through some of the more intricate steps, and -

He stops in the middle of the hallway and blinks down at his socks. _Oh._

He rings Renjun’s phone for confirmation, casually asking him where he is and if he’d be up for some practice. “Practice? Jeno and Jaemin are already in the studio! Maybe you can join them!” is what Renjun tells him, and Jisung bites back his sigh when he thanks him.

He should have known.

 

Jisung wonders if he should ask Donghyuck about it, but Donghyuck would just make fun of him, and Jisung doesn’t want that. So he asks Renjun instead.

Is it his fault he and Jaemin are drifting apart? Is he a bad dongsaeng? Or is Jeno just a better friend? How is _Jeno_ doing so well at keeping Jaemin close when he doesn’t even answer his phone on most days? How was Jeno able to care for Jaemin when they were a city apart for over a year?

It’s almost five in the morning when he asks, so Jisung understands why Renjun shuts the door in his face and says he’ll think about it.

“Jaemin’s special to him,” Renjun eventually tells him one day after sneaking in ice cream and handing Jisung a popsicle. Chenle’s in the bathroom and Jeno and Jaemin are mysteriously gone, as usual. “Very special.”

Petulantly, Jisung mumbles, “He’s special to me, too.”

And Renjun laughs, the ice cream in his mouth almost falling to the tabletop in his glee. “Yes, Jaemin’s special to me, too, Jisung ah. But I don’t want him the way Jeno does, okay?”

Jisung makes a face at him. What does Renjun mean by _want_? Jisung’s never really _wanted_ Jaemin until he was gone. Jaemin has always just… been there, he supposes.

He takes a bite off his popsicle in contemplation.

Renjun rolls his eyes and neatly tucks his rubbish in the corner shop bag he snuck their snacks in. “Maybe you’ll get it when you’re older.” Jisung catches the _but they were your age when they started this mess_ he mutters beneath his breath.

“Huh?” he goes. “Hyung, what does that mean?”

Renjun only gasps theatrically. “Oops?” He orders Jisung to throw the evidence away, then bolts for it.

Jisung gapes. “Hyung!” When Renjun makes it clear he isn’t going to entertain Jisung’s questions through blasting Mandopop at deafening volumes, Jisung decides to bother Chenle in the shower. Chenle would know what Renjun meant.

Jisung just has to find a way to get him to tell him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> yes, it ends there!  
> the entire point of this thing was to show that jisung, tho he acts like he knows it all & is mature, is still very naïve in a lot of ways. you have to remember that he started training to be an idol at twelve, krn age, and tho that says a lot of how talented he is and the work ethic he’s probably devloped, it also implies that he hasn’t had the most well-rounded of development in other areas, which explains why he’s so awkward all the time - other than the fact that he’s a teenager. and the reason why no one tells him about jj’s relationship is bc no one really talks about it themselves! sm has dating bans in place and it wouldn’t do anyone good if they really know smth, yeah? it’s just smth everyone implicitly knows. think of it as a coming of age of sorts for jisung to finally find out one day in the future. c:
> 
> thank you for reading this mess, i hope you liked it! leave a kudos and/or a comment if you did <3  
>   
> twitter: [yukrens](https://twitter.com/yukrens) | cc: [jaemina](http://curiouscat.me/jaemina)


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